(Photo from Archives: 8/28/2007)
Sometimes I get really tired of saying I'm sorry ... apologizing profusely for my short-comings and failure to rise to the occasion. Again. I may not post here every day, but I can assure you that not one single day passes when my truancy doesn't cross my mind.
I have this recurring dream where I find an aquarium that I forgot was in my care. Most of the fish in it are dead from long-term lack of food. The few still alive are only barely so, clouded eyes and gasping. In this dream, I behold what's become of my neglect with overwhelming guilt. Look at what I've done ... because of what I haven't done.
I don't like breaking promises and, for better or worse, I see this blog as a promise. Yes, to you, precious visitor, but also, mostly, to myself. I can handwrite in my journal like the house is on fire, every morning without fail. Yet it's putting my words out there by putting them down here that keeps tripping me up with furious persistence.
So today I am contemplating who I might be and how things might be different if I stop telling myself those stories I craft to justify not being here. I have been telling these stories for a long time. Especially the one about not-enough-time and nothing-worthwhile-to-say. The scariest story is why-bother. I've told these stories long enough that I believe them. I tell them to other people too. If I can convince them to believe me, then they really must be true.
But they're not true. And it's time for a new story. One where there is always enough time. One where there is so much say. One in which the reasons to bother are simple, rich, sometimes messy ... and quite possibly none of my business to judge. Maybe the best part of this new story is when I finally break free of my chrysalis and breathe.